


Immortality Tested

by Writer_Incognito



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Elves, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Mirkwood, References to Illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1227394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer_Incognito/pseuds/Writer_Incognito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tauriel comes across a weakened half-elf, fleeing form the shadows of Dol Guldur. Little does she know that she'll bring death to the halls of the King.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Shadows of Dol Guldur

Tauriel didn’t know what she expected of this October morning, patrolling to the south. They had ventured further than they usually did; past the river, past the Mirkwood mountains, and spying in the shadows of Dol Guldur.  
An unknown female elf running desperately from half a dozen Orcs was not one of the scenarios she’d deemed plausible. The elf was young and severely weakened and shrieked with almost every breath in panic. Tauriel cursed under her breath and produced her bow. She gave Emerion, her brother, who’d insisted on accompanying her on this trip, a serious look and she was pleased to see that he was bracing himself for battle as well. To her left she felt Minohien, a trusted member of her guard, readying an arrow on the bowstring. For the first time on this trip, she was glad that Emerion was with her; he was a member of the King’s Army and no stranger to fighting.

The fleeing girl had eliminated all choice for the small party as her frantic flight was aiming straight for them. Confrontation was suddenly inevitable.

“Go,” Tauriel commanded and they simultaneously stood up and fired their bows, immediately taking 3 orcs down. Minohien drew another arrow, while Tauriel and Emerion went for their daggers and swords and jumped at the remaining three orcs.

The fight was hardly a fight at all and none of the three elves were breaking a sweat.

The fleeing girl had been just as surprised at the wood elves’ attacked as the orcs had been and in the panic and shock she’d collapsed and curled herself into a ball and continued to scream with every breath, even though her voice severely damaged from the strain and thus hardly producing a sound at all.

Tauriel closed in on the girl, cocking her head, “Half-elf,” she corrected herself. She looked back at the two others.

“Pad the orcs down. See if they have anything on them that might prove useful,” Tauriel commanded and turned her attention back on the girl, who’d reduced her screaming to a subdued sobbing. Tauriel mounted her bow on her back and kneeled by the girl.

“There, there, little girl,” Tauriel attempted, but she found herself at a loss to handle the situation. The girl briefly made eye contact when hearing a language she understood. Tauriel gave her a smile.

“They won’t be hurting you anymore,” Tauriel assured her, “They are dead now.” She gestured the fallen bodies of the orcs. She was please to find that the girl followed her movement and she looked long and hard at the bodies with her eyes wide open, seemingly drinking in the view. To Tauriel, she looked like a wild cornered animal.  
The girls sobbing had seized, but Tauriel saw that the she appeared to have trouble breathing still. There was an unpleasant wheezing to her breath that she’d never heard before. The girl was skinny and dirty, wearing rags that barely covered anything at all and Tauriel gathered that she must’ve been a prisoner of Dol Guldur.

“What is your name, girl?” Tauriel asked. The girl made eye contact again with her wild grey eyes.

“Bellethiel,” she answered in her abused voice, just above a whisper.

“An elvish name,” Tauriel smiled and gestured her two companions, “This is Emerion and Minohien. I’m Tauriel.”

“What are you going to do with the girl?” Emerion asked. Such insubordination she never would have accepted from a member of her guard. She shot him a warning look that silenced him. She turned to Bellethiel again.

“Will you come with us to the elven King’s halls so that you can heal?” Tauriel asked, deciding that the girl had had more than enough bullying for one day. To her satisfaction, Bellethiel nodded.  
“We would also like to ask you some questions about,” Tauriel pointed at the ruins of Dol Guldur that just broke free of the canapé. The girl visibly shuddered, “-but it won’t be now. When you are ready.”  
The girl nodded again. Tauriel smiled, satisfied with the way things were turning out.

However, Emerion didn’t look pleased, “-The King has no time for such things. Why are you taking her with us?”  
“Dear Brother, you are under my command when you are travelling as a member of the guard and I will tolerate no more of this from you,” Tauriel bid, her voice suddenly booming, “-she might have vital intelligence of Dol Guldur. I don’t expect the King to bother with her, but perhaps one of his advisors.”  
“Perhaps Legolas will?” Emerion said with smirk on his lips and a spark in his eyes. Tauriel’s anger melted anyway in a instant and she gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder.  
“Shut up,” she said with a smile, “- you’ve just won the privilege of carrying Bellethiel. All the way to back home.”  
Minohien laughed and began leading the way back north.

 

They’d not travelled 3 hours before they had to stop again. Bellethiel had begun coughing and the difficulty breathing, Tauriel had noticed earlier, had only grown worse. They lay her down on the forest floor and found her even paler than she was earlier and a sheen of sweat covered her forehead.   
“Perhaps she’s injured,” Minohien suggested. Tauriel meticulously examined every part of her body, but aside from a few bruises found nothing.  
“She’s hot to the touch,” Tauriel whispered.  
“Fever,” Emerion concluded and Tauriel damned their misfortune.  
“We should hurry back then,” Minohien said, when the others went silent, “-hand her over to Enassiel as soon as possible. I should much prefer not to spend a night out here with spiders and orcs.”

Tauriel quickly considered her options. One the one hand, she was concerned that that the girl wouldn’t make the journey, especially in an elevated haste. On the other hand, none of them were healers and would not be able to help her, beyond her basic needs of food and water. Also the spiders and what other found things crawled out there should also be taken into consideration. The girl would be a weakness to them if they were confronted.

“We hurry back. Bellethiel will simply have to make it without rest. Minohien, relieve Emerion when he begins feeling tired.”

“Yes, captain,” he nodded and helped the girl back on Emerions back.

 

They ran as fast as they could for hours on end. They continued on after the sun set and to make matters worse, it began raining cats and dogs.  
Minohien had relieved Emerion of the extra weight of the girls around sunset and they managed to keep up the haste.  
They only ran into two spiders on their way, nothing that Tauriel couldn’t handle herself in front.

On the borders they were stopped by Legolas and two other members of the guard. Tauriel recognized, but paid them no heed.  
“Where have you been, Tauriel?” Legolas asked, concern and anger lacing his speech, “Half the guard has been sent looking for you.”  
“Half the guard?” Tauriel choked in surprise, “-been sent?! By whom?”  
“My father,” Legolas answered, cooling down a bit, “-I think he had a premonition.”  
“We ventured a bit further south than intended,” Tauriel explained and gestured the limb girl on Minohiens back, “-found this half-elf fleeing from half a dozen orcs in  the shadows of Dol Guldur.”  
“Half-elf?” Legolas repeated. Half-elves were rare.  
“I brought her in for questioning, but she is very weakened and needs healing.”  
Legolas called one of his followers forward, “-take the girl to Enassiel and hurry. I think I must take you three to my father.”

 

\--

 

Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, was pacing the grand hall, his extravagant robes moving around his body as if having a life of their own. He wasn’t wearing his crown and his hair flowed freely, occasionally catching the light and shining like the purest white gold. Even by elven standard he was a sight to behold.

Tauriel cocked her head behind Legolas for the second time today; she’d never seen the king pacing. It seemed very much out of character for him. As soon as the king saw them approaching he moved towards them and met them half way – again it seemed out of character.

Legolas only nodded to his father, but Tauriel, Emerion, and Minohien bowed deeply as was expected of them.   
“I took them straight to you,” Legolas explained and took his place next to the king. Thranduil only gave a slight nod in acknowledgement and then seemed to relax a bit more. He took his time, before he asked his questions and Tauriel felt relieved that she began to recognize her king again.

“Where have you been?” Thranduil asked in his deep voice that filled the halls without effort.  
“We were patrolling the south,” Tauriel answered without looking him in the eyes.  
“How far south?” came the immediate response. Tauriel cleared her throat. She didn’t like where this was going.  
“South of the mountains, in the shadows of Dol Guldur,” she replied. The king took breath in.  
“How come? You know that need permission to go that far south.”

Emerion moved nervously beside her at this information. Tauriel knew she was in trouble in more ways than one.  
“I was following a hunch,” Tauriel answered honestly.  
“Following a hunch,” Thranduil repeated, “-you deem this as a valid excuse to overrule your King’s orders.”   
“No,” Tauriel sighed and realized how stupid it sounded, “-it was a feeling that took my entire being. I had to go south. It was my decision. These two weren’t aware that we’d travelled beyond our orders.”

Her tone was level and settled. She was aware of her offense. Thranduil couldn’t decide whether or not this was a good thing. He took his time to study the others and giving himself time to think on how to act. The feeling she described that took her entire being, correlated with a premonition. However, it was rare that such a young elf could feel these things.  
Again, it also correlated with his own premonition he experienced earlier today.

“You found someone today, yes?” Thranduil asked, fully expecting a positive answer. Emerion and Minohien exchanged glances.  
“Yes,” Tauriel answered, “-a half-elf. We suspect she was a captive of Dol Guldur. We brought her here for healing and questioning.” Thranduil took the information in slowly, trying to figure out what it meant.

“Emerion. Minohien. You are dismissed,” Thranduil interrupted himself and remained silent as the two elves took their leave. His attention turned to Tauriel in full force and she literally felt the weight of his presence, to such an extent that she fell to her knees. She was tired and she didn’t fully understand the seriousness of her offence before this moment.

“My King,” she breathed, “-I...”  
“Captain,” Thranduil interrupted her, “-I’m going to believe that you had a premonition. Obviously you had to act on it. However, mine tells us to be wary of this stranger. Tell her nothing and let her see nothing. Let her remain in the halls of healing until she is well enough to be questioned. When she is recovered, send her on her way.”

“Yes, yes sir,” she stammered and got on feet, her legs trembling.  
“I hope you realize that I have to suspend you from active duty,” Thranduil continued.  
“Of course.”  
“A month will suffice. You are dismissed,” Thranduil ended their conversation. The punishment in a suspension from active duty lay mostly in the public humiliation and was the most lenient verdict she could have hoped for. Tauriel bowed again and left the King and Prince.

 

Thranduil gazed after the captain’s retreated figure and did not move long after she was gone. Legolas studied his father with a mix of concern and curiosity.   
“She’s much too young to be experiencing premonitions,” Legolas pointed out, “-what are you seeing?”  
Thranduil turned around and met his sons gaze and Legolas felt the weight that Tauriel suffered just minutes before. The king certainly was in an intense mood tonight.

“The Shadows of Dol Guldur grow long and far reaching,” Thranduil spoke and walked past Legolas towards his own quarters.   
Legolas could do little but stare at him in puzzlement. He sighed, shook his head, and made his way towards the guards’ headquarters to state his father’s orders.

 

 

\--

 

Ennassiel walked her last round before she would turn in for the night, silently checking the status of her patients. She absentmindedly pulled her long night blue coat closer around her slight frame. Today had been busy compared to most days; a training exercise had gone wrong and 3 soldier were admitted with complicated fractures and top it all up she’d taking in the strange half-elf Tauriel had brought in.  
The girl was strangely weakened by a force she didn’t recognize and coughing wetly without there being any obvious injuries to her chest or throat. The fever worried her, but she’d successfully lowered it with tea of the poppy.  
What surprised her most this evening was finding the king himself in the room of the half-elf, studying her patient with intent.   
“My King,” she bowed, “-what brings you to the healing bay this time of night?” He scarcely spared her a glance, but visibly took in breath.   
“I’d thought it would have been obvious, but I’m here to see the half-elf,” Thranduil answered and even though Enassiel was just shy a millennia older than Thranduil, she was the one, who felt foolish.  
“Of course,” she limited herself, “- I suppose the actual question I wanted to ask was, why are you here to see the half-elf?”  
Thranduil met her gaze briefly, not revealing any emotion behind the grey eyes. She knew she was being a bit more frank that was expected of her, but she was a member of his council and head healer and had been for millennia. She’d earned the privilege, even if she was but of silvan descent.   
“The Shadows of Dol Guldur grow long and far reaching,” Thranduil repeated. Enassiel didn’t understand, but she wasn’t sure that he understood either.  
“I fear she brings the shadows to our halls,” Thranduil continued and let his gaze grow distant. Enassiel felt herself shudder against the sudden cold feeling that ran down her spine. She studied the girl again with new eyes, but found nothing that indicated evil; she was young, scarcely adult, thin and malnourished and pale as the sheets she was lying on. She was plain by elven standards, short and not particularly pretty. Her auburn hair was dull, even lifeless and had clearly been cut with a knife in a rush.  
“Sounds ominous,” Enassiel whispered, making Thranduil look at her again. He nodded in agreement.  
“Are you alright, sir?” she asked, when the King suddenly looked weary. He straightened himself.  
“I don’t know how Galadriel does it,” Thranduil admitted, “-these _premonitions_..,” he disliked the very word, “-are taxing. I don’t know what to make of it.” Enassiel smiled at the honesty and familiarity the King was allowing himself.  
“You are still growing into mysteries of the mind,” Enassiel offered, “-surely it’ll get clearer in time.”  
The king sighed, “-I certainly hope so.”  
He made to leave and Enassiel gave him room.  
“Please let me know when she’s well enough to be interrogated,” he commanded just as he was exiting the room.  
“Yes sir,” Enassiel bowed and returned her gaze to the slight form in the bed, “-certainly.”

 

\--

 

“You seem troubled,” Harion observed from the corner of the Kings work room. Thranduil looked up on his oldest son from the trade agreement he was studying with disinterest.   
“Does the Esgaroth traders offend you with their offer again?” Harion ventured and stepped closer to the desk his father was sitting by. The king leaned back and shook his head.  
“No, their counter offer is agreeable,” he admitted, “- my mind was on the half-elf in our healing bay.”  
This visibly puzzled the young crown prince.  
“Why so?” he asked and put the heavy coat he’d been holding in his arms over his shoulders. Thranduil noticed it was a practical coat and not like the usual fine garments, he preferred, much like himself.  
“It’s been 10 sunrises since her arrival and Enassiel has not deemed her ready for interrogation yet,” his father explained, clear upset, “-for Valar’s sake – she’s half elven as is Elrond. Even his polluted elven blood should have kicked in by now.”  
Harion raised his eyebrows. These were hard words even for the elven King and a serious offence against the Lord Elrond that they were all fond of. Harion mere took it as evidence that it lay heavily on his father’s mind.  
“It does seem like an excessively long time to heal from wounds that I hear, weren’t that serious,” Harion agreed, “-do you want me to talk to Enassiel about it?”  
An inexplicable pain went through Thranduils temples and his hand went to his head. The movement didn’t go unnoticed.  
“Are you alright?” his son asked. Thranduil put a dismissive hand between them.  
“I’m fine,” he lied, “-I’ll go to Enassiel myself later. Where are you going? You’re clearly dressed to be outside.”  
“Boar hunt,” Harion smiled, his visage suddenly that of a boy again, “-Legolas spotted one early this morning 10 miles to the north west.”  
The king sighed overbearingly, “-keep you little brother out of trouble.”  
“I will,” he grinned and grabbed his bow and arrows on the way out. He nearly toppled the ancient chief advisor that was making her way to the king with a severe look, but managed to jump out of the way.  
“Be careful,” she warned and Harion just laughed and ran. Thranduil grimaced. Sometimes he wished that his children were more mature.

Aglarabel, his chief advisor entered the room with a wild look in her eyes. She was wearing a simple flaming red dress that suited her red blond hair. When she settled down in front of him, he noticed that she looked even greyer than last time he saw her.

The woman was ancient, even beyond his own understanding of the word. Age meant little to the immortal, but the woman before him had founded this society and had been advisor for his own father, Oropher.  
“I can see that the sea is calling to you,” Tranduil began and put the trade agreement away, realizing that he wouldn’t be allowed to finish it today.  
“Its call grows strong,” she admitted, “- I think I must sail within the foreseeable future.”  
“I’m saddened by this,” Thranduil said and stood up, clasping his hands behind his back, “-you have been my true and loyal subject and advisor through the entirety of my kingship. My father’s as well. The day of your departure will be a dark one, my friend. I trust, you’ll go on the first boat.”  
“You honour me with your words, my king. No, not the first ship unfortunately, as my successor still needs more experience before I can leave.”  
Thranduil nodded, taking in the information. This was truly unsettling. He turned around and faced her again.  
“Yes, Edendur is quite young still,” Thranduil comment, “-but I’m sure you didn’t come to discuss your successor.”  
“No, you’re quite right. There are whisperings in the corners,” she warned, “-the half-elf concerns our people. You must conduct the interrogation soon.”  
“I plan to,” Thranduil bid, “-however, Enassiel does not deem her well enough.”  
“Not well enough?” she counted, “-this is about the safety of the Woodland Realm.”  
Thranduil swallowed his planned response, his face revealing a thousand emotions at once. That is obviously how the people saw it and not necessarily how she viewed the matter herself. This was why he needed her.  
“I see your point,” he gave and sat down again, “-we must arrange the questioning immediately.”  
“I agree,” she supported, “-shall I make the arrangements?”  
“No, I will go. You are welcome to join me,” he said and took the reins again. He placed his autumn crown firmly on his head and made his way towards the healing bay, followed by Aglarabel.


	2. The Interview and War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interview is conducted and a year passes. War is upon them and Enassiel makes a worrying conclusion.

”I don’t know how long I’ve been held captive at... Dol Guldur,” the word was clearly foreign for to the young half-elf. She shook herself and pulled the blanket closer around her. She coughed a gurgling wet sound that chilled Thranduil to the bone.  
He had to admit that she didn’t seem quite well enough to be questioned, like Enassiel had insisted, but there was no going back yet.  
Enassiel had left the room in protest – the most rebellious action, she’d ever performed against him. He shook his head slightly. He would warn her in public later. That would be punishment enough.  
“Bellethiel,” Thranduil tasted the word and she looked up at him again, “-how many orcs would you estimate to inhabit Dol Guldur at the present?”  
His advisor leaned forward in evident curiosity. Thranduil had initially been against asking that question to a girl, barely adult with no military training.  
“I don’t know,” she sobbed, “-I only saw a fraction of the place, but there were many.”

“More than a hundred?” Aglarabel offered, interrupting him. He shot her a glance, but allowed her to continue. The girl nodded and coughed into a fist.  
“Easily,” she croaked and drew a laboured breath, “- there might have been a hundred just in the section of the dungeon, where I was being held.”  
His advisor shot the King a triumphant look, but he turned his attention to the girl. The answer was more helpful than he’d hoped for. Dol Guldurs size and dungeons were a distant memory to him, but still it gave him some idea of their numbers. Quick math put it well over two thousands. The disbelieving look on his advisors visage, told him that she was reaching the same result. She stood up, clearly awaiting his orders.

“Call for an urgent council meeting,” he send her on her way and turned back to the girl that now looked even paler than she’d been when they’d begun their interview.  
“How were you captured?” Thranduil continued nevertheless, his sixth sense urging him onwards. She furrowed her brow and looked him straight in the eyes. She shook her head.  
“I can’t remember.”  
Thranduil scoffed against his better judgement, but quickly recovered his regal aloofness “-let’s try something more recent then. How did you escape?”

It was a simple question, but a hard feat, considering the hundred something guards that would have been in the dungeon.  
Tears formed in her eyes and buried her face in her hands. Thranduil could feel he was unto something.  
“How did you escape, Bellethiel,” he repeated, careful not to raise his voice or to let his mistrust show too much. She sobbed and coughed. The king noticed that she was shaking also. He chose not to comment on it, but to just let the scene play out before him.  
“I don’t know,” she whispered, “it’s all a blur.”  
Thranduil cocked his head and studied her with extreme intent. Despite his best efforts, he could detect no signs of her lying.  
“I should know this,” Bellethiel continued, “-it’s all a blur.”  
“You remember nothing?” he asked in disbelief.  
“I remember Tauriel,” she admitted, “-I remember running from the orcs.”  
“What happened before you ran from the orcs?”  
“I should know,” she repeated and sobbed.  
“I should think that sneaking past and escaping hundreds of orcs would have left an impression,” Thranduil added without moving a muscle. Bellethiel’s eyes suddenly grew distant and she slumped over and started convulsing violently.

Thranduil quickly stepped outside and yelled for Enassiel. He cursed, when he received no answer and returned to the poor girl that continued to thrash about.  
He went to her and tried keeping her on the bed and keep her from hitting her head too much. He almost shied away from the touch, when he found her burning under his skin. It seemed impossible for a living thing to emit so much heat.  
He caught the water carafe on the table next to her and tore the blankets of her and poured the water all over her, hoping to lower her temperature.  
It didn’t seem to help at all. He yelled again for Enassiel.

He tried lifting her from the bed, but her thrashing made it excessively difficult. He locked her tightly against his own body, feeling her hot breath against his face and he quickly lowered her to the cool stone floor.  
Enassiel entered with a panicked look in the eyes.  
“What’s happening?” she asked and hurried to the King and the girl.  
“She started convulsing suddenly. She is very hot,” Thranduil summed it up. Enassiel quickly picked a couple of herbs from her satchel she always carried in her belt and put in under Bellethiels tongue.  
Within a minute the convulsions slowly died out.  
Thranduil found Enassiels eyes on him.  
“What?”  
“You have blood on your face,” she stated and then turned to the girl. She carefully pushed her lips apart and found her teeth smeared red.

Aglarabel stepped into the room, stopping dead in her track at the scene that presented itself upon her arrival.  
“Council is ready in ten minutes,” she stared at the two figures.  
“I’ll just go wash this off and I’ll be there,” Thranduil answered and followed her. His advisor had so much tact that she didn’t ask.

 

\--

 

A little more than a year later

 

Long strides took Thranduil took from the grand hall back to his quarters. All his children were hot on his heels, looking grim. They walked in silence, meeting no one on their way, as they had left the vast majority of the elven inhabitants of Mirkwood back in the grand hall, their muttering and uproar still audible.  
Thranduil opened the door to his study and let his children enter the room before him. They were used to not discussing private matters of any kind with their father in public and they waited until the door was closed. Just.  


“War?!” Glasséll exclaimed and let herself fall unto a chair, while blinking her tears away.  
“Is it true?” Harion asked, remaining standing. Legolas just looked at him with those wide blue eyes.

Thranduil took off his long extravagant robe and placed it upon his desk. He brushed his fingers over the expensive fabric. He was going to miss it, but it was a symbol of peace time and not in any way suited for war. Legolas involuntary slumped down next to Glasséll, when Thranduil took of his autumn crown naked branches and placed it next to the robe. Instead he turned around and produced a richly decorated casket. From it he lifted a crown, much like the autumn one he’d just discarded, but made in steel, like it was made of several dagger blades. It was his crown of war.  
Legolas decided that he didn’t like it and it didn’t suit his father at all.

“How large was the assault?” Legolas suddenly found the courage to ask.  
“It was estimated that they were slain by a group of 200 orcs. They didn’t stand much chance,” Thranduil answered in an even voice.  
“And we will interpret it as an act of war?” Harion asked, matching his voice to his fathers.  
“Yes, as of last night, we are at war,” Thranduil answered patiently.  
“What does that mean?” Glasséll continued. Thranduil sat down opposite them, his new crown already weighing on him. He knew his daughter didn’t mean the actual acts of war, but more how it would affect their daily lives.  
“You are fortunate,” he began, “- you are children of the peace. Your lives have not yet been shadowed by the harshness and brutality of war.” Thranduil cleared his throat, his voice suddenly giving out him.

“I expect you to play an active role in protecting Greenwood,” Thranduil informed, “-Harion, Legolas you’ll make yourself useful to the guard.  
“Tauriel,” Harion almost spat, his disdain for her ill concealed.  
“You will keep that tone yourself,” Thranduil quickly bit, earning him looks from all of his children, “-Tauriel may be young, but she has earned her place and your respect.”  
“She’s Silvan,” Harion continued.  
“Then it’s fortunate that she’s not to be queen,” Thranduil ended the topic, “-Glasséll, I expect you to report to Enassiel. Learn from her and help her with the wounded.”  
“I can shoot a bow and sword dance. Why am I not appointed guard duty as well,” she asked undignified, but in a calm manner.  sighed.  
“You respect life too much, dearest daughter of mine,” Thranduil answered truthfully, “-I think you’ll be happier restoring it than taking it. Please don’t think your task as less important.”

She considered it for a moment, but then nodded, “- Enassiel seems wise. I’ll work hard.”

“I know you will,” Thranduil kissed her on her forehead, “-go now and rest all of you. Tomorrow a dark age begin and we best be ready.”

He gently padded his two boys on their shoulders and closed the door after them. The concluded his role as a farther for the evening and returned to the large table in the middle, now equipped with a large map over Greenwood, or Mirkwood as it had become.

The door suddenly opened up and Thranduil turned around, fully expecting Harion to be back, apologizing for his statements.

Instead a worn looking Enassiel filled the doorway. She looked upset.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you at such a time my Lord, but I have some bad news,” Enassiel breathed with a sense of urgency. Thranduil felt a chill run down his spine. He gestured her to enter the room and it didn’t help his anxiousness that she carefully closed the door.

“Do you remember the half-elf girl, Bellethiel,” Enassiel began. Thranduil lifted his right eyebrow.  
“From Dol Guldur?” he asked and she nodded, “-of course.”  
“As you know, she didn’t really recover from the cough she came in with and she died about a month later,” Enassiel revealed. Thranduil had not been expecting this information – he knew this and he didn’t like where this was going.  
“That was unfortunate,” Thranduil began tactfully, “-I know you worked hard for her recovery.”  
“That is now why I’m here,” Enassiel quickly dismissed him, “- there are now three elves exhibiting symptoms of the same disease.”

Thranduil lost his breath and it took just about all his strength to remain standing. It was a blow to their basis of life.  
“That’s impossible,” Thranduil whispered, “-we are immortal. Disease does not apply to us.”  
Enassiel only nodded, “-I know. Nevertheless, I have three elves coughing.”  
“Could it be something else? Spider poison or something like it,” Thranduil tried, grasping at straws. Enassiel would of course have considered that possibility.  
“No. I have checked and checked again.”  
“How long have they been coughing?”  
“About a month now,” Enassiel answered and pulled her robe tightly around her, as if suddenly cold, “-my King, if we accept that this is indeed the disease that the half-elf carried with her, there is something else we must consider.”  
“What is that?”  
“Contagion,” Enassiel stated, “- it passed from the half-elf to three Silvan elves. I can’t say if it can only pass that way or if it is possible for it to pass between elves also. If so, we are in a serious peril, my Lord.”  
Thranduil felt his heartbeat in his ears. It was unbearable.  
“How can we know?”  
“We can only wait,” Enassiel smiled a sad smile, “-it apparently takes about a year for the disease to form in elves. This also means that the three elves exhibiting symptoms now have carried the disease around our halls for a year. Isolating them now seems hopeless.”  
“So we hope that no more than the initial three gets sick?”  
“Yes,” Enassiel sighed, “- that would be good news.”  
“When will we know?” Thranduil sat down at his desk.  
“We still discover more of the initially infected, but in about 2 months, we’ll know.”  
 _If we’re doomed or not_. Thranduil nodded.  
“Who are they?”  
“Tauriel’s brother, Emerion, member of the guard, Minohien, and my healing girl, Anlairia whom took care of the half-elf.”  
“They’ve all been in contact with the girl,” Thranduil realized.  
“Yes, but so have I and Tauriel... and you.”  
“Keep an eye out for Tauriel,” Thranduil requested and had never felt so heavy in his life.  
“I’ll keep an eye out for all of us,” Enassiel gave a weak smile, which he attempted to return, but there was no hiding from it; he was truly frightened. How could one fight something like this.  
“How have you handled...?” Thranduil began, but the words eluded him.  
“I’ve been very discreet,” Enassiel assured him.  
“Good, keep it that way. Use the spider poison excuse and instruct all involved to remain quiet,” he ordered. Enassiel bowed and slipped out, seemingly a bit relieved.

The same could not be said for him. He had a bad feeling about it all.


	3. Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on patrol with Tauriel they are ambushed. King Thranduil and Crown Prince Harion are injured.

I would be no more than two days later that Thranduil began feeling the true weight of the war. He had insisted on accompanying Tauriel and Harion on their patrol in order to see the forest with his own eyes. Tauriel had protested, of course. It was extra responsibility on her shoulders to protect the king and she promptly doubled the patrol in size, when Thranduil didn’t back down from his wish.  
Thranduil found that the sudden urge to see the forest with his own eyes might have been another premonition as they were attacked by a large party of orcs, not an hour south of their halls. Had the patrol not been doubled in man power, no one would have survived.  
The attack had come as a complete surprise, leaving everybody stunned for half a second. However, Thranduil charged into action, when he saw Harion, being overwhelmed by 4 orcs, like they somehow knew he was the heir to the Woodland Realm. However, Harion had been in the front of the patrol, where Thranduil had been in the middle of it and he had to fight his way to his son.  
The king drew his sword and with elegant effective swings he began clearing his way to the front of the patrol. His movement were so swift that they were barely visible to the orcs. He could feel Tauriel following him, covering his back while yelling orders to the guards.  
He was just about to tackle the first of the four orcs surrounding Harion, his entire being screaming to defend his son, when his breath suddenly snagged... on the dust presumably. The strange feeling distracted him for half a second, when an orcish mace connected with exposed right side and felled him to the ground, bringing him back to the current situation.  
Thranduil immediately kicked and crushed the orcs knee, successfully bringing him down and cutting his throat, before he could do any more damage.  
Thranduil gasped for breath and coughed. The blow had knocked the air out of his lungs.  
He struggled to his feet and Tauriel hoisted him up, when she found him to be too slow.  
“Are you alright?” she asked, suddenly ignoring the fighting around her, her eyes full of concern.  
“Fine,” he lied and blocked a swing of a sword that would have decapitated Tauriel and stabbed the orc in the chest, “-focus!”  
Tauriel was already back in action, felling two incoming orcs, allowing Thranduil to attack one of the orcs, attacking Harion. He wasn’t above stabbing it in the back, removing the threat instantly, when Harion screamed in pain and fell to the ground.  
The King leaped in and decapitated the orc closest to Harion, bathing them all in blood and barely dodging a swing from the second orc, earning him a gash on the upper right arm. He blocked to more attacks before finding an opening – an opening he used without blinking, stabbing it through the chest and twisted his sword before pulling it out, just to cause the offending orc a few more moments of pain. Tauriel took care of the last orc.  
Thranduil turned to Harion lying on the ground, when the world suddenly spun around him, and his strength left his legs, sending him to his knees. His side was ablaze with pain, making is difficult to breathe and he coughed and coughed. It had a wetness to it that didn’t bode well.  
“My King,” Tauriel rushed to his side, “-you’re injured.”  
He painfully slowly got his breathing under control again and straightened up a bit  
“I think I might have broken a couple of ribs,” he gasped, “-I’ll be alright.”  
He met Tauriels puzzled eyes for a moment. Her brows were knitted in concern, “-I think you might have punctured a lung, my lord. We should hurry back.”  
“Harion?” Thranduil gasped in pain, as he got to his feet. Every single movement jarred his injured side.  
“He’ll be fine,” Tauriel answered for him, “-but his thigh got slashed and he’s bleeding pretty heavily, so we should hurry back.”  
“Harion,” he continued, ignoring Tauriel and moved to his sons side, when he suddenly lost his words. The impact of his son lying in the mud, bleeding from an angry open wound in his thigh, hit him hard.  
If he hadn’t insisted on going today...  
The feeling along with the pain became too much and he felt himself growing faint again. Tauriel probably noticed, because her arms were suddenly on his elbow to give support. She’d even been so gracious as to cover the manoeuvre with her cloak so that no one would notice. He gave her a weak smile.  
“Thank you,” he whispered and took a relatively deep breath, “-but I’m stronger than this.”  
The last part was mostly to himself and he went to his son and held him while they bandaged his wound and helped carry him to his horse, when he was ready for it. His side protested it all the way home, but Harion had so willingly accepted his help that it had been worth it. Even though he didn’t say anything all the way back, Harion remained right next to him and he felt his heart glow just a little. They’d stopped the bleeding and Enassiel would handle the rest. Harion would be back on his feet within a week.  
Thranduil coughed once during their rid back and he felt every eye of the patrol upon him, especially Tauriel.  
“Are you alright?” Harion whispered when most eyes had turned again. Thranduil cradled his right side, but gave him a reassuring smile.  
“It’s nothing that Enassiel can’t handle.”

\--

Back safely in their halls, Thranduil went straight for his own quarters, despite Tauriel and Harions protests against. They wanted him to see Enassiel right away  
“Send her to me, when she’s done with the rest of you,” he ended their attempts and left.  
Once alone he took his amour off and undressed down to his breeches. A dark black and purple bruised was blooming over his ribs on his right side and it burned - nothing like dragon fire though. He touched his cheek that weren’t there in reminiscence. It was a slow burning pain that he could handle and master.  
The cut on his arms was deep though. It would need binding.  
He poured himself a glass of wine and sat down on his bed. He was very aware of how it might have ended today, had he not come along on the patrol.  
It struck him that the party of orcs were much larger than any they’d encountered thus far and it was curious that it was coincidence that saved them. How had the orcs even known where to plan the ambush? He sighed deeply, earning himself a blinding stab of pain and realized that there could be an informant within their own realm.  
“Father?” Legolas melodic voice sounded from living chamber. It was leaded with worry.  
“In here,” he gave and stood up trying to find something to wear, as he felt very exposed, but a cough suddenly settled in his chest again, making his core spasm methodically, jarring his injured ribs.  
In the next moment Legolas was beside him, clearly taken aback by the view of bruise and the cut, but perhaps more by the coughing.  
“Shall I fetch Enassiel?” he asked in a level tone. Thranduil shook his head and got his breathing under control.  
“No, she’s coming once she’s done with the others,” he answered, barely above a whisper.  
“But you’re more injured than any of the others?” Legolas argued.  
“More injured?” Thranduil didn’t sound convinced, “-hardly. How is Harion?”  
“He’s fine. His wounds are bandaged and he’ll be one his feet again soon,” Legolas answered.  
“Good,” was all Thranduil could say, knowing how much worse the day could have ended.  
“What went wrong?” Legolas continued.  
“An ambush,” Thranduil answered patiently and took a sip of his wine. He gestured for Legolas to have some as well, but he quickly declined.  
“The orcs are growing bold, but a couple of hours south of halls,” Thranduil continued, mostly to himself, “-it will not do.” He looked at his son, eager to learn, eager to serve.  
“Will you go to Aglarabel and have her arrange a council meeting tomorrow morning?”  
“Sure,” Legolas agreed and was just about to go.  
“Make sure that you, Harion, and Glasséll are all present as well. It’s about time that you were introduced properly as members of the council. Amidst war, there’s no telling what might happen.”  
Legolas nodded and visibly shuddered. It was not a happy thought.

\--

Enassiel didn’t enter his chambers until late in the night. Thranduil was still up, working on the morning’s council meeting. Her late hour suggested that he certainly weren’t the one who was hurt the worst. She inclined her head.  
“My king,” she began, “-I was told that you were injured as well.  
“Yes,” he acknowledged and winced as he got to his feet. His pained expression didn’t go unnoticed. He took off the his outer robe, revealing the angry bruise and cut, making Enassiels expression visibly soften.  
“I had no idea it was so serious. Otherwise I would have come earlier,” she said and he dismissed it.  
“It looks worse that it is,” he tried to reassure her, but she only gave him a forgiving smile.  
“I hardly think so. What was it? A club?” she commented and began working on his arm.  
“A mace,” he answered and earned himself a grimace from Enassiel.  
“Then you’re lucky that it didn’t penetrate the skin.”  
“The mithril took most of it,” he admitted. She made light work of the arm and it was cleaned and tightly bandaged in no time. However, Thranduil shied away from her touch when she came to his ribs. Even the slightest touch was painful.  
“I’ve been coughing,” Thranduil blurted out, earning him a stare before true realization dawned upon Enassiel. She seemed to lose her strength and sat down on the nearest chair, facing him. She shook her head.  
“No,” was only thing she could muster. Thranduil sat down opposite her, cradling his right side and she suddenly straightened up.  
“Were you coughing before or after you got injured,” she asked gesturing his ribs. He took a second before answering.  
“After,” he replied and a stone fell from her heart.  
“Then I would not worry. Anyone would cough from that. The lung is probably bruised underneath,” Enassiel informed him and got back on her feet, “-now don’t move. I have to check if anything’s broken.”  
He hissed through the pain as she probed the injured area, even crying out once, letting the illusion that kept his face up slip for a second. Enassiel pretended that she didn’t noticed.  
“Two ribs are definitely broken, maybe three,” Enassiel concluded, “-nothing is out of place, so there’s little I can do. You must take it easy for at least a week and it’ll be another week before it’ll feel normal again.”  
“Yes, thank you,” he remained seated as he was seriously out of breath from the pain, “-what about the cough?”  
“Well, you shouldn’t cough anymore from now on. Please come to me, if you do.”  
“Certainly,” he attempted a smile that quickly vanished when he stood up. He groaned through the pain, “-thanks for your help. The hour is late and I can imagine that you are in need of rest.”  
“That makes two of us,” Enassiel corrected him. She made to leave, but then changed her mind, turning back to face Thranduil.  
“I hope this is not too bold,” Enassiel began, but faltered.  
“What is it?”  
“You’ve lost weight, my lord,” Enassiel revealed. Thranduil had not expected that and looked down himself. To him, he didn’t look any different from what he did yesterday.  
“Really?” he found himself asking.  
“Yes, please take care of yourself. We all look to you in the face of war,” she ended and left the room. His gazed lingered after her retreating form long after she was gone. He had originally planned on continuing working on the agenda for the council meeting tomorrow, but Enassiel had changed his mind and went to bed.


	4. Council meeting and a weapon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil hopes for the council elders back-up and invites his children to the council meeting for the first time. He instructs to march to the mountains and to hold the orcs south of there. Legolas expresses his wish to join the army to the mountains. Afterwards Thranduil meets with Enassiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, I Imagine this to take place between the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings.

Thranduil awoke coughing, pulling him from peaceful sleep. It took a moment for a chill to run up his spine as he realized that he wasn’t supposed to do that. He gingerly placed his palm on his chest, testing his breath, when the spasm passed.

His ribs felt loads better. Now it was just a dull ache that felt tight across his chest, even though it still looked angry with deep blue and purple shades.

He got up slowly, careful to keep his injury in check. As he washed himself, he found his reflection in the mirror to be pale and drawn. Mentally he quickly blamed it on the injury and the shock of nearly losing his son.

He quickly dressed and ignored the tray with breakfast that was made ready for him.

\--

 

The air in the council was cold and filled with tension. Everyone rose when Thranduil entered with Glasséll and Legolas.

“Please sit,” the king formally urged, “-today Princess Glasséll and Prince Legolas will be attending. Crown Prince Harion would have been here also, but he’s currently under Enassiel’s strict order to remain in bed.”

He shot Enassiel a acknowledging look and she nodded in return. Nenton rose from his seat and met Thranduil’s eyes, taking his time to brush his long straight brown hair back. He was the oldest around the table and highly respected.

“We heard that you and the crown prince were ambushed yesterday. We do hope that Harion is alright,” he deliberately spelled out, clearly wanting more information.

“Harion was stabbed in the thigh. The blood loss was significant but Enassiel tells me that he’ll be back within the week,” Thranduil answered with all the patience he could muster.

“And you sir?” Nenton continued, making Thranduil narrow his eyes. The old guy was pushing it, but he had enough status and seniority that Thranduil would need a good reason for denying him the information.

“A couple of broken ribs,” he finally admitted.  
“And a bruised lung,” Enassiel added and Tranduil’s temper flared in his chest. It took all his self control to not react to it.  
“It will heal,” he ended it sharply, his temper evidently shining through, since it made Nenton dump back into his chair with a surprised look on his face.

The King took a deep breath and collected himself.  
“Yesterday we were attacked but an hour south of here,” he informed, “-even though we are at war, their boldness is unacceptable.”

He turned his attention to his commander of the army, Aelost, who immediately rose from his chair.  
“It’s time we put our fine army to good use,” Thranduil continued, “-Half of the army will go south and clear the forest as far as the mountains. Then we will use the mountains as a natural wall. We will hold the line west and east of the mountains.”  
Thranduil drew his tactics on the huge map that was draped over the central table.  
“When will these orders take effect?” his commander asked, the sinewy even straighter than Thranduil had ever seen him.

“We will discuss the particulars after the conclusion of this meeting,” he replied and gestured him to sit again. He followed his instructions. Thranduil was not worried about his reaction, but more particular Nenton and Aglarabel’s. It was of course his provocative to overrule the council, but that would cause an uproar.  
“I agree,” Aglarabel kept her gaze on the map, “-even though I’m generally against war, it would seem that there are no other choice. We must be able to hunt and gather food and perhaps more importantly starve our enemies. They must not be given the opportunity to ambush hunters, gatherers, or patrols and if they deplete the game population in the forest it could be catastrophic.”

Thranduil let a breath go he didn’t even know he was holding. How he loved Aglarabels clear mind.  
“Also,” Nenton interrupted, making Thranduil tensed up again, “-we should consider securing the river and springs. The orcs could pollute our fresh water sources.”

The king blinked a couple of times. He had forgot to consider that. He had been and fought on countless foreign battlefields, but never the same hardships at home. He would have to look at everything from a different perspective.  
“That is wise. Please arrange that, Nenton”  
“I’ll be honoured,” he bowed and there was a glimt in his eyes, “-I know just the folk.”  
“Aglarabel, Edendur,” the king continued, “-please arrange extra purchase of grain and meat from lake town. We must be able to withstand a siege.”  
“They are starving as it,” Edendur argued.  
“Then travel further than Lake Town,” Thranduil bit.  
“We’ll arrange it sir,” Aglarabal put her hand on Edendur’s arm, successfully stopping his further protests.

The meeting continued on for an hour or so, where they discussed how to inform the inhabitants on how to act when venturing outside the walls. What to do with the horses, what to do with the remaining borders, and so on.  
  
Commander Aelost stayed behind when the other left the room. Thranduil discreetly asked Glasséll and Legolas to meet him back in his study before they left as well. He caught Edendur looking longer at Glasséll than was appropriate and he made a mental note to remind both Glasséll and Edendur that Sindar elves did not marry Sylvan.

“What do you suggest, commander?” Thranduil urged Aelost to speak more freely now that they were alone.  
“It’s a good idea to keep half the army still in the halls. There are plenty of ways for the orcs or someone else to attack the halls without coming from the south. We must not be blind to our flanks.”  
“Of course not,” Thranduil sat down opposite his commander and grimaced as the pain flared over his ribs. Judging by the concerned look that washed over his stern commander he noticed his kings discomfort.  
“We make our way to mountains and hold the line to the east and west of them as you said,” he repated, “-then I suggest we initiate a guerrilla tactics.”

Thranduil quirked an eyebrow, “-how so?”

“We form small groups that are used to working together and send them in at all times of the days, starting fires, stealing food, and killing what we can.”

The king considered it for a moment. It wasn’t the noble choice, but when it can to orcs he had no finer feelings.

“Robbing them of their sleep as well, I presume,” the king added.  
“Of course. We’ll be stressing them and making life difficult for them, leaving them little time to regroup and organize a serious attack.”  
Thranduil approved, “-good. That’s where we’ll start. Then we’ll consider our situation again once we’ve taken the mountains.”  
“Yes sir, we’ll move out tomorrow then,” The commander stood.  
“Good luck commander,” Thranduil remained seated, know it would cause him pain to get to his feet again. He would do that once the commander left.  
“Thank you sir,” he bowed and left.  
  
The king stayed behind alone with a thoughtful look on his face as he looked at the great map depicting Mirkwood. Their home. His home. His children’s home.  
He had thought his fighting days over, but it seems he had been hasty in his conclusions.

\--

 

 Thranduil started when he found Enassiel waiting for him outside the door, his light hair flicking around his face and pain erupting in his side. He had not sensed her at all. She seemed as shocked to his reaction as he was to her presence. His hand flew to his right side to stabilize his ribs and stumbled, when his vision momentarily blackened. The wall came as a welcome support to lean on.  
Enassiel didn’t know how to react, she just stood there for several seconds while Thranduil collected himself, hand over her mouth.  
“I’m so sorry my Lord,” she began, “- I didn’t conceal my presence. I thought you knew I was here.”  
Thranduil nodded and waved a dismissive hand at her while slowly straightening up again.  
“I know,” he coughed three times, effectively silencing them both for the 5 longest seconds they’d ever known.  
“Dammit,” Thranduil whispered and met Enassiels gaze. She looked hollow inside.  
“No,” she whispered and was clearly about to say more, when he sharply silenced her.  
“Not here!” he bit and took a very deliberate breath, “-why don’t you accompany back to my chambers?”

She just nodded and followed him in silence. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind and she could imagine that Thranduil was feeling the same way. She also noticed by the way he carried himself that he was more burdened by his injury than he wanted her to know. She shook her head. She’d heard that his father had been the same way.  
“Legolas and Glasséll will be in my study as well. Please don’t mention anything to them,” he let her know and by his tone it was clear that it was more than a request.  
“I’ll bear that in mind,” she tactfully responded and lowered her head.

Glasséll beamed when they entered Thranduils study and he internally cursed Edendur, but if she had to fall for a Silvan elf, he supposed that she could do much worse than his second advisor.  
“That went well, didn’t it,” Glasséll smiled, “-good thing that you have Nenton on your side as well with the war.” Thranduil had been in a completely different place, when he’s entered the room. It took him a moment to produce his smile.  
“Yes, indeed,” he agreed and sat down by the table, “-it was very fruitful.”  
“I want to go with the army to the mountains,” Legolas announced, seemingly very calm and determined, “- I think I’ll be of use there.”  
Thranduil was left speechless. He’d never seen his son act so... adult, for a lack of a better word. He drank in the feeling.  
“That’s much too dangerous. You can’t!” Glasséll exclaimed, realizing the danger that her little brother would be in, “-father, tell him he can’t”  
“You are of use here,” Thranduil assured Legolas, but it was clear that it wouldn’t be enough to convince him. Thranduil sighed and considered how old he’d been when he’d found himself in such a situation. Legolas was by far the best fighter of his children, almost as good as himself. And not much of a politician.  
“I feel like I’ll be of more use in the mountains,” Legolas argued and calmly met his father’s eyes.  
“I have a feeling that you will indeed,” he gave and earned himself a smile from Legolas, “-report to the commander in the morning.”  
“I will.”  
“And don’t tell Harion yet,” Thranduil bid, “-either of you.” He meant mostly Glasséll. She looked very undignified.  
“We most all do what we do best,” Thranduil cut her off, when she was about argue.  
“Except for the King,” Legolas playfully added, “-he must do, what everyone else can’t.” Glasséll gave him a sour look. Thranduil had a feeling where this was going.  
“And what is that?”  
“Nothing!” Legoals exclaimed and ran. Thranduil shook his head and sighed. Everything that had resembled maturity a moment was long gone. Even his grown daughter looked like a scorned child. He would have expected Enassiel to be covering a smile in the corner, where she was waiting, but she just stared into nothingness with a blank expression.  
“Now I’m sure you have duties in the healing bay,” Thranduil guessed and by the looks of his daughter, he was right. Glasséll looked over her shoulder at Enassiel, but then straightened up.  
“Yes, there are some herbs that need sorting,” she informed him as if she hadn’t completely forgotten.  
“Good. We’ll speak later,” he ended their conversation and watched her leave. It was a good minute after she’s closed the door behind her before he looked at Enassiel. The smile that had been on his face just moments ago had melted away.  
“I’ve been infected,” he said, mostly to himself, “-an evil roams in my chest, seeking to steal my breath, and extinguish the spark of life.”  
The words lingered in the air. Enassiel shook herself against the coldness that suddenly crept up on her.   
“It, it...” she tried to speak, but her voice was reluctant to obey her, “-it would seem so, my lord.”   
Thranduil didn’t respond for a while.  
“Have you discovered any new cases?” he asked reluctantly.  
“Yes,” Enassiel admitted, “- the kitchen girl that served the half-elf is also sick now.”  
He closed his eyes in defeat.  
“It’s magically enhanced,” she added, “-perhaps...” her words died on her lips.  
Silvan elves weren’t very strong in magic. It made sense that the disease would need something to penetrate their immune system and healing abilities.  
“I’ll write to Elrond and ask for his help. As much as I hate to admit it, this is beyond us.”  
Enassiel nodded approvingly, “-and perhaps Mithrandir.”  
“I’ve had too little to do with him. I can’t ask him directly. I’ll hear, if Elrond can make the request,” he gave, even though it put the woodland realm in a bad light.  
“But I can’t ask them just yet,” Thranduil countered himself, “-not until we’re sure that this thing isn’t contagious.”  
“Probably a good idea, but it will be a while for the help to arrive then. Some might be very sick.”  
“We simply have to trust that whoever build this weapon underestimated our immortality.”  
“Weapon?” Enassiel asked. Thranduil met her gaze with his intelligent eyes.  
“Yes. It’s magically enhanced and a unknown half-elf that remembers nothing is sent into to our midst for treatment. Tauriel told me that she didn’t know why she’d taken the half-elf with them, only that she felt compelled to do so.”  
A thousand emotions rippled over Enassiel’s face as realization dawned upon her.

“It’s a time set weapon meant to destroy us from within,” she finished.

 


	5. It's lonely to be king

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aglarabel finds out. The Army marches.  
> ...and a little surprise at the end.

Thranduil swallowed the cough that was rising in his chest when Aglarabel suddenly came into his study without announcing her presence. Her mouth was a thin tight line and Thranduil felt a chill creep up his spine; she was not happy with him. He closed the huge book of military inventories he’d been studying with feeling- a less than wise decision as it released a considerable amount of dust into the air and the cough he’d been holding back forced its way through.  
It earned him a puzzled look from his advisor, but she seemed so upset that she was pacing the room in front of his desk.

“You seem troubled,” Thranduil began sarcastically. His patience was wearing thin trying to accommodated everyone else; his chest was aching and Harion had just been by, complaining about not being allowed to go with the army, when Legolas, his little brother had been given permission.  
“I’ve been your advisor for many years,” she began, not commenting on his tone.  
“Yes, Aglarabel. Get to the point,” Thranduil bit, earning him another stare from her.  
“Why is it that I must learn from thirds parties and idle chit-chat that my king several days ago allowed his youngest son to join the army south?” she said accusingly.  
“He is my son. It was a private decision,” Thranduil argued.  
“He’s the third in line for the crown in a time of war,” Aglarabel immediately countered, “-You are going to protect the royal line with all means necessary. You may remember that your own father died in war, leaving only you as heir.”  
She was a wielder of words and they cut like knives. Thranduil found himself on his feet.  
“You may remember, chief advisor Aglarabel,” he spelled her name out very deliberately, “-that I fought alongside him countless time before he died and even when he died. I will not shield my children from the world and it’s cruel realities. Sheltered spoiled children make poor regents!”  
This silenced her for a while, while she kept pacing.  
“I suppose you have a point. We are fortunate that you have three heirs. There is another, perhaps more pressing matter...”  
“And what is that?” Thranduil asked mildly as he could, with his anger coursing through his veins. It came   
out rather flat.  
“I’ve found that you have isolated several in the healing bay with alleged spider poisoning. However, that doesn’t add up. I tried to find out more, but they are well guarded and Enassiel attempted her best to calm. She was a bit too eager. What is happening?”

Thranduil sat back down. It was already in motion and it would only be a matter of time before they would have to clean about the disease.   
“There is something,” Aglarabel noticed from Thranduil reaction of lack of same. She sat down before him, “-tell me.”  
“It’s a very delicate situation. We had to handle it with discretion or risk mass panic,” Thranduil began explaining and his advisor visibly shuddered.  
“Sounds ominous.”  
“It is,” he sighed heavily, “-it turns out that the half-elf that died in our custody was carrying a disease that was magically enhanced to target elves.”  
“Disease does not apply to us,” Aglarabel quickly dismissed it. Thranduil flashed a bitter crooked smile for just a second.  
“My exact words. However, we now have 4 elves in the healing bay, exhibiting the same symptoms, so apparently this one does.”  
“An unseen weapon,” she quickly gathered.  
“Yes. Whoever is in charge of Dol Guldur is more than a simple orc,” Thranduil concluded tiredly. It was getting rather late. He found her eyes examining him with intent.  
“Yes, it would seem so,” she commented flatly and located the untouched plate of food waiting for Thranduil. She touched the tea pot next to it and found it completely cooled.  
“Have you stopped eating, my Lord?” she asked.  
“No, there has just so many things to do that I haven’t had the time just yet,” he lied. Food had indeed lost its appeal to him.  
“I’ve even heard that turned down wine on more than one occasion,” continued. He definitely didn’t like where this was going.

“It doesn’t taste the same in time of war,” he attempted, but if she’s been really thorough, she would know that it had started before the actual war began. All the fire and aggression she’d held when she entered the room was completely gone. She looked old and grey again.

“Are you sick as well, my Lord?” she asked him directly. He couldn’t lie straight to her face and she knew it. Instead of confirming it he remained silent and held her gaze. She sighed heavily and cursed under her breath.  
“Who knows?” she demanded.  
“Only Enassiel. And now you,” he replied, “-I intend to keep it that way. The Woodland Realm will look weak if it became known that they’d managed to hit the king with their attack. We would look weak and not only to Dol Guldur, but also to whosoever is behind it and everyone else.”  
“Not even your children?” she asked in disbelief.  
“Not if I can help it,” he heartily answered, but then sighed, “-but I suppose, it’s not a thing that I can hide forever.”  
“Are you holding up?” she then asked, suddenly remembering than physical illness would cause discomfort.  
“It’s nothing. So far, it’s just a cough,” he earnestly answered, “-perhaps I tire a little more easily.”  
“You’ve lost your appetite, I would hardly call that nothing.”  
“That’s the least of my worries,” Thranduil began, but she quickly but him off.  
“It’s _noticeable_ ,” she sharply countered, “-You’ve grown quite thin already. If you plan to keep this a secret, then you must think further ahead. A cough you might be able to hide. To sleep more may be concealed, but an increasingly thin frame is a very visible sign. You’ve never lost your appetite before and the only logically explanation that comes to mind is that you are either fading or sick, once the news of the infection gets around.”

He hated when she was right, which was most of the time. Even now, he could scarcely believe the situation he found himself in; immortality seemingly lost, possibly dying, and with war raging within his kingdom. Aglarabel was talking so calmly about it that he could scarcely relate. At least she was constructive.  
“I’ll try and make an effort to eat,” he gave.  
“And do not turn down wine when offered,” she instructed. He just nodded.  
“Are you sure, this is what you want? It’s going to be awfully lonely,” she asked in a softer tone. His eyes seemed empty, when they met hers.

“It’s always lonely to be king.”

\--

In the following days preparations for the march of the army went underway in all levels of their halls. Tension was high and activity even higher. Legolas was in the middle of it all and thriving. He and his newly appointed team had been given the task of packing and stocking lembas bread for the travel. It was a menial task, but he didn’t mind a bit of practical work. Truth be told, it helped shortening the distance between him and his new team mates that he would fight side by side with in a matter of days. It had been Aelosts idea. He would thank him later.

 

Thranduil tried to forget he was sending his youngest son into battle by burying himself in work. Administrating and coordinating the march of the army presented a perfect opportunity to do just that. Enassiel was fuzzing about him whenever she could, trying to convince him to take it easy.  
Glasséll had been ever so mad at him for letting Legolas go, but it had mellowed her out, when Thranduil had asked her to arrange the party the night before the outmarch.   
The night before the departure came sooner than Thranduil anticipated. Legolas had spent all his time with his new mates and hadn’t had time to come by his father.  
He dressed in one of his grander robes that matched the color of the cold steel that made his crown and put on his king face as he waited for Glassél to come and get him. They were to make a fashionably late entrance to the party just before the food was served.  
There was a lag to his breathing today that he didn’t like. It was as if he had to work harder for breath. The morning cough was beginning to become a part of his routine. It was a sad and gradual development.

Aglarabel had watched him like a Hawk and made sure that he ate something at least something twice a day. Even though he was thoroughly annoyed with being bossed around, he had to admit that it had given him more evergy.

He had just mounted the crown on his head, when a discreet knock on the door announced Glassélls arrival.

She was so stunning that Thranduil felt himself loose his breath. She was wearing a dress in delicate light blue of an exquisite shiny fabric that perfectly matched her teint, eyes and hair. Her curly long blond her had been oiled, making it shine even more and atop it all rested a gold circlet with a pearl. She was truly shining and she blushed under his awestruck expression.

“You look truly lovely, my child,” he finally commented, “I’ll have to guard you closely tonight.”

“Thank you. I think I’ll be just fine,” she beamed and placed her hand on her father’s arm, allowing him to escort her. He only smiled and led the way. As Thranduil presumed Glasséll had hoped for the, the entire hall fell silent, when they entered. All eyes were on her, save perhaps Harion’s who was already making merry with his close friends. However, even their eyes were on his little sister.

The king took his place at the high table, flanked by his advisors and commanders and their partners. Glasséll stayed on the floor and bid welcome on his behalf. She was smiling and eloquent. She announced the choir and presented the best singer the Woodland Realm had to offer; the stunning Gilraen.

While Gilraen began singing, Glasséll went to the high table and sat next to her father. He sent her a soft smile.

“You did well, my child,” he whispered and gave her hand a slight squeeze. Glasséll gave him a wide smile and blushed ever so slightly, but it only added to her beauty.

Thranduil found himself wishing that his wife was here to see what a magnificent woman their daughter was turning into. He knew she would have had to blink her tears of happiness away. She was like that.

He must’ve faltered, Glasséll had put her hand on his shoulder, “-are you alright?”

He put his smile back on, “-of course. Gilraens voice is sheer perfection tonight, is it not?”  
“Sure... yes, it is,” Glasséll insecurely answered and turned her gaze to the performer in the middle of the room. Just as Thranduil had hoped. Gilraen had charisma like few others and it came natural for her to steal the people’s attention.

Food and vine were served in plentiful quantities. Thranduil was struggling to just finish the one glass and one serving. Everything seemed to turn to ash in his mouth.

The choir and Gilraen sang increasingly merry tunes and his people were laughing and dancing. People were conversing around him and occasionally speaking to him. It was a fitting night before the march of the army, but there was too much, all of a sudden. Everything was noisy and a whirl of movements and colors.

He had to get out. His breath suddenly developed a soft rasp.

He cursed under his breath.

“What?” Glassél asked next to him. He cleared his throat and tried not to lose himself in the chaos. He focused on her.  
“I’m retreating for the evening. Will you take care of the rest?”  
“So soon, the stars are barely out?” she protested.  
“I’ve many things to see to still,” the lie rolled of his tongue with surprising ease. He gave her a soft smile, “- please make the appropriate excuses for me.”  
He got up and walked out of the hall, feeling many eyes resting on his back. He knew it was highly irregular and he would have to make up for it in the morning just before the march.

Finally alone in the archways that lead to the finer quarters, he let the cough that had been building in his chest roam free. The raged at him harder than it had before and just at the end of each cough was a distinctive rattling wet sound that had characterized the half-elf’s cough.  
He straightened back up, once the spasms stopped, only to find that Tauriel was approaching him. He felt his heart drop.  
She was dressed in the light leather armour in green and brown tones. She was dirty, sweaty, and bloodied, and wore battle on her like a perfume. Her pupils were slightly dilated and he realized that she was high on battle. She’d fought recently. He found himself drinking in the view of his valkyrie and felt slightly silly wearing these excessive robes of expensive fabrics that were infinitely impractical.  
“I would like a word, if you don’t mind,” she bowed, once she was close enough.  
“Say you must,” Thranduil urged her on and walked past her in his original heading, “-but walk with me.”  
“Legolas has not reported to me these last few days and I’ve heard nothing,” she explained.  
“Has he not told you?” Thranduil arched a brow. He’d thought them quite close.  
“Told me what?” she continued.  
“Legolas is travelling with the army to the mountains. He’s been preparing for the march,” Thranduil revealed, effectively making Tauriel stop dead in her tracks. The king stopped as well and studied her closely. She didn’t look sad, just disappointed.  
“I’m sorry,” he began, “-I thought he’d told you. Otherwise, I would have informed you.”  
She put a dismissive hand between them.  
“I know you would,” she smiled, “- it’s just that many things are changing.”

Thranduil couldn’t help but chuckle, “-You’ve not even passed your first millennium. The only thing that is certain is that things will change.”  
She gave him a crooked smile, full of mischief that took him completely aback, “-you would know.”  
“Are you teasing me about my age?” he asked in disbelief.  
“Do you have to ask?” she countered.  
“Yes, actually. I’m the king. I don’t get teased.”  
Tauriel laughed heartily at this and Thranduil found himself laughing along with her. What a strange turn of events.

She grew serious and looked him in the eyes, deeply in his eyes. He found himself doing the same thing and was suddenly overpowered by a new feeling, a feeling he’d thought long lost.  
Tauriel shortened the distance between them and Thranduil finished the job, locking her in a deep and passionate kiss. She responded like the valkyrie she was and lead him to her quarters.

What a strange turn of event he repeated to himself and gave in to his sudden physical needs.


	6. Contagion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enassiel finds that the disease is not contagious elves between. Thranduil deteriorates and Aglarabel finds her strength again.  
> They break the news of the disease to the council.

”It’s not contagious,” Enassiel concluded and Thranduil sank back into the chair he found himself in. He coughed a couple times. Enassiel’s face visibly darkened at his exhibition of symptoms.

 

It was now 2 months after the diagnosis and he was the one who was the least marked by the disease still, but he too was deteriorating.

“I’ll send a messenger for Elrond right away,” he said tiredly and got to his feat slowly.  
“And Mithrandir?” Enassiel offered.  
“No, I think perhaps that Radagast will be more appropriate for this particular problem. Also we’ve had more encounters with him than with Mithrandir,” he dismissed, “- I will call for a council meeting tomorrow. Please prepare yourself for questions regarding this matter.”  
“Are we releasing the information?” Enassiel asked, not sure how to feel about it.  
“Yes, we cannot conceal it any longer and now we have no need. Surely there will be uncertainty and maybe even panic, but nothing compared to if it was infectious.”  
She nodded, “-how are you doing?”  
Thranduil sighed and looked longingly towards the door.  
“The same, only a bit worse,” he smiled weakly and chuckled at his own weak description.  
“You’re not just coughing in the morning anymore?” she asked.  
“No, It’s infiltrating every hour of every day and night now,” he answered truthfully and looked out the window.  
“At night also?” Enassiel inquired, hoping to get him to elaborate. He only nodded, not interested in prolonging the conversation any longer than it absolutely had to.  
“I hope you’ll let me examine you again sometime,” Enassiel sighed, “-I only wish the best for you.”  
“I know,” Thranduil quickly answered, “-I just don’t think I’m entirely ready to admit this weakness to myself.”  
“Are you still keeping your children in the dark?” she asked. He shot her a warning look, she was close to the edge.  
“I haven’t told them yet,” he admitted sourly.  
“So you have no one to talk with?” she pried. His gaze was chilling now.  
“I’m the king. I cannot ...,” he began sharply, but stopped himself with a calming breath, “- I can speak with you and with Aglarabel. That must suffice. I’ll see you tomorrow at the council meeting.”  
He ended their conversation and left her study and made for his own. On his way he got a hold of Edendur and had him call the council meeting and had him send Aglarabel to his office.  


These emergency council meeting were getting common and didn’t attract the same attention it used to, which he deemed fortunate.

He looked out into the forest. The sun was already setting and he’d already had a long day and a long night before that. Tauriel had visited him again last night. It was becoming a regular thing, much to his surprise. He knew it had to stop, but he found himself incapable of resisting her. It was vexing and intoxicating at the same time.

It also meant little sleep, combined with the extra work it was to have half the army stationed 5 days to the south in the mountains, meant even less sleep.

In his condition, he knew he shouldn’t carry on like this. His health had deteriorated at a faster rate after he took up his late night activities.

Aglarabel had made it her personal quest to make him eat and dined with him, whenever he was free other engagements, both dinner and lunch. It first he’d found it quite annoying, now it was just slightly amusing.

 

\--

 

Tauriel was awaiting him in his study and a fire burned in her eyes. She didn’t say anything.  
“I’m expecting Aglarabel at any moment,” he quickly informed her before it would go too far. Her shoulders sank.  
“A shame,” she commented and let herself slide from his massive desk she’d been sitting on, “-I had plans for you.”  
Thranduil sighed and took of his crown and placed on the desk next to her. He kissed her chastely. She was clearly disappointed.  
“I’m afraid I have little time tonight. We have an important council meeting tomorrow,” Thranduil explained. He didn’t mention that he also badly needed rest.  
“I haven’t been called to a council meeting,” she said and arched an eye brow.  
“You will,” Thranduil, “-probably as soon as you leave this room.” She shrugged her shoulders.  
“Will it last long? I have patrols out,” she asked.  
“It probably will,” he hesitated, “-I should prepare you. It involves your brother in a way.”  
She visibly paled, “-the poisoning. I’ve noticed he’s getting worse.”  
“He has not been poisoned. He’s been infected by a disease that has been magically enhanced to target elves. It is a sort of weapon,” Thranduil tried to explain. Tauriel covered her mouth with the her hand as she took in the information.  
“The half-elf,” she realized with a whisper and seemed to crumble before his eyes. She backed away from him with insecure steps, “- I brought her here.”  
“This is not your fault,” Thranduil wanted to embrace her, but Aglarabel could walk in any moment, “-the urge you felt to bring her here, was forced upon you by a wizard of some sort. Please don’t feel guilty.”  
Tauriel only shook her head.

“Your brother and the other infected will be told tonight. I think he’ll need a friendly face,” Thranduil added, hoping to put her mind to other things. She blinked her tears away and straightened up.  
“Thank you for telling me now rather than tomorrow,” she formally said and bowed before she left. Thranduil grimaced at the stab of pain that went through his heart. Her usual cool and formality he expected in public, but not in private. In private it felt like an insult.

He coughed heavily and it sounded even wetter than it had earlier. Barely had he gotten his breathing under control again, before another cough started back up. He let himself slump into his chair and kept coughing. Leaning back, he was panting by the time the last spasm released its hold of his body and he felt utterly drained.

Aglarabel knocked once on the door, before entering, looking strong and bright.  
“You look well Aglarabel,” Thranduil observed. She shot him a smile and sat down.  
“Thank you, my king,” she began, “-the call of the sea grows distant again.” Thranduil straightened up a bit, but felt like he lacked the strength to keep it up.  
“I’m glad to hear it. What has changed?” he asked and leaned back, giving up.  
“Well, the war and your condition. I’m needed yet again, so to speak,” she truthfully answered, “-have you eaten yet?”  
He should have been used to the abrupt subject changes, but he really wasn’t. It was so unlike Aglarabel. He shook his head.  
“Then I’ll just arrange some food. We’ll talk once you’ve eaten.”

  
Thranduil sighed heavily. He was growing tired of being bossed around. He sighed again and shook it off of him. He produced paper and ink and began writing the letter to Elrond and Radagast. With any luck messengers could be sent tonight.

Aglarabel returned not 20 minutes later only to find her king draped over the table, fast asleep among charts, maps, and letters. She wanted to laugh, but she knew the reason and it wasn’t pretty or funny. The king was pale and face drawn. She could even hear his breathing.

Putting the tray down in front of him, she watched him for a minute before trying to wake him.  
“My King,” she began, but no response, “-Thranduil!”  
Still he slept on and she resorted to shaking his shoulder. He awoke with a start, made eye contact with Aglarabel for just a second, before succumbing to a harsh coughing fit. It lasted for what seemed forever to her and it was by far the worst she’d heard from her king so far.  
Thranduil noticed her examining look and swallowed the cough. She sat down and didn’t take her eyes of him.  
“I just need some rest,” he quickly argued, before she could even make her point. He shivered, suddenly cold and wrapped his robe closer around himself.  
“You’re not well today,” she said at length in a low voice, “-if you intend to keep up the pretences then I suggest you take better care of yourself. You can’t defile yourself like you might have been able to before.”  
”I’m just a little behind on my sleep,” he said tiredly and shivered. Algarabel was not convinced, but said nothing. Instead she nudged the tray of food closer to him, urging him. He lost his spirit almost instantly.  
“Please,” she said before he could say anything, “-you’re doing better than the others. I have to think that what we’re doing is the right thing.”  
“Aglarabel,” he began with a pleading tone, but changed his mind and shook it of him. He picked the fruit of the tray and a piece of bread, thinking he could at least manage that. She assessed his selection and shook her head lightly.  
“You’re not going keep your weight up with that,” she concluded. Thranduil did even look at her.  
“Well, it’s what it’s going to be tonight.” Aglarabel stiffened.  
“What did you call me here for?” she asked in a more formal tone.  
“Council meeting tomorrow,” Thranduil quickly answered, happy about the change of subject, “-we’re going to reveal the secret about the disease.” She was momentarily stunned.  
“About you as well, sir?” she asked in puzzlement.   
“No, we are going to leave me out of it for the time being. I want you and Enassiel presenting the situation,” he quickly answered. Her eyes grew distant, but she nodded.  
“I’ll prepare. Are Harion and Glassél going to be present?” she asked. He studied for face for a moment, wondering why that was relevant.  
“Yes, they are,” he responded apprehensively. She only nodded again.  
“Do you need me for more?” she asked and rose from her seat.  
“No thank you.”  
“Make sure you catch up on your sleep,” she smiled and left. Thranduil noted her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

He finished the letters and made himself eat the fruit and bread. Everything was quite and most had settled down or gone to bed. The weather was frosty clear and sounds could be carried tens of kilometres.  
He felt heavy when he stood up and went to find couriers.

\--

The mood of the council meeting room had changed drastically from the earlier meetings after the army had marched. The absence of Aelost and Legolas was certainly noticeable even though vice captain of the Army, Arangos, had stepped in.

The members seemed to even to have lost their ability to speak as Enassiel finished her account of the situation with the disease and half-elf.

Even the oldest and hardest of the members were wide eyed and scarcely able to take in the information just offered to them. Thranduil, Aglarabel, and Tauriel who knew about it before this moment, looked downcast and their eyes stared at nothing in particular.

Especially Thranduil looked distant and old.

Nenton was the first able to gather himself enough to form words.

“How are the... infected,” the word was foreign to him, “-responding to your healing Master Enassiel?”  
She met his eyes and hesitated for a second, “-not at all, I’m afraid. It seems as the magical enhancement interferes with the healing as well. None of us are very strong with that kind of magic.”  
Another wave of silence and despair washed over the room. The end of the table, Thranduil absentmindedly put a hand on his chest, Enassiel noticed, as if he was in pain.  
“What is being done?” Nenton asked, hoping for something to hold on to. Thranduil instantly awoke from his trance, but didn’t stand like he usually did.  
“Yesterday I wrote to Lord Elrond and the brown wizard Radagast, asking them for their assistance,” he asked, his voice oddly dull.  
“Yesterday?” it blurted out of Edendur, “-but you’ve know for so long?”  
“Yes, we had to make sure that the disease wasn’t contagious before spreading it out beyond our lands,” the King emotionlessly explained.  
“Contagion,” Nenton breathed, “-and we’re quite sure that it’s not?”  
“Pretty sure,” Enassiel answered weakly, “-the infected have been roaming around our halls for more than a year now and the infected have all been in direct contact with the half-elf. The number of infected have been stable now for two months, meaning we have seen no new cases. We have none infected in the second degree.”

“But this is something that I gather that we know little about,” Nenton concluded and Enassiel nodded, “-indeed a grave situation.”  
“It’s meant as a weapon,” Thranduil explained with a strange detachment, “-developed to destroy us from within. We have to find out who’s behind it and warn our kin. For all we know they might try something similar elsewhere.”  
“I’ll warn our allies,” Aglarabel quickly took the task upon herself.  
“Good,” Thranduil got up and made to leave, “-I think this concludes today’s meeting,”  
“How are you going to announce this news to the public,” Nenton asked before he could move. Thranduil looked at Aglarabel.  
“I’ll take care of it, my King,” she responded and bowed her head.   
Glasséll and Harion followed their father out of the room with disheartened spirits.


	7. Arrival of Elrond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrond arrives in haste and discovers more about the Woodland King than he expected.

Elrond arrived in haste with just two lifeguards and one of his healers just 7 weeks after the letters left Thranduil’s Halls. There was nothing of the pomp and splendour that usually heralded his visits; he was practically dressed and his horse packed with an endless array of satchels as was his followers’. It was evident that they’d ridden hard. Thranduil was glad that he’d been summoned in time to receive these important guests at the gates even though it was dreadfully early in the morning. Winter had set in in full force and it was freezing cold. Thranduil knew he wasn’t supposed to feel it, but he did - right down to his very bones.  
Elrond dismounted his horses with the vigour of a young man, looking like the hard ride had done him good.  
“Lord Elrond,” Thranduil began in his king’s voice, hoping his lungs would have the strength to maintain it, “-I’m imminently pleased that you responded so quickly and in your own person.”  
Lord Elrond smiled a sad smile, “-I’m glad that you wrote to me. You gave a most troubling account of the situation.”  
Thranduil’s expression visibly darkened, “-not exaggerated, I’m afraid.” Thranduil stepped aside and gestured them to follow them inside, “-you must be tired after you journey. Wash and rest up and I’ll explain further.”  
Edendur, who was impeccably clad this morning, stepped forward and bowed deeply, “-I’ll lead you to your rooms.”

Algarabel urged Thranduil to stay behind with her when the others began moving inside, clearly wanting to say something. Thranduil shivered involuntary, making Aglarabel stare at him.  
“I feel the cold,” he explained and rubbed his chest, when he was sure that no one was looking. Algarabel furrowed her brow, “-strange.”   
“What are you going to do about Elrond?” she asked. He met her gaze, not quite understanding.  
“I was planning to explain the situation to him and introduce him to Enassiel,” Thranduil tried.  
“I mean, what about you and Elrond? Will you be able to keep your condition from him or do you intend to tell him everything?”  
“I plan to keep it from him,” Thranduil admitted.  
“Will you be able to?” she quickly countered, “-if you can’t your silence will not be taken well.”  
Thranduil removed his gaze from her and looked into the silverfrost clad forest while considering her point.  
“My condition has improved since the change in the weather,” he revealed, “- it seems that the crisp frost weather agrees with me.”  
“Really?” she asked with obvious disbelief, “-how much improved?”  
“I barely cough,” he answered with a tired smile, “-Ennassiel ensured me that it would only be a brief interlude of better health. Once the weather turns again and turns humid, I’ll go back to where I was.”  
She began walking and Thranduil followed her, “- is it the same with the others?”  
“Yes and no. It seems that some have gotten worse with the drop in temperature. Most of them are experiencing a bettering like I,” he explained, “-depending on the length of his stay, I should be able to make it through without displaying weakness.”  
Aglarabel said nothing, though it was clear that she wished that he would tell Elrond.

 

He returned to his study with a letter from the front in the mountains from Aelost, his army captain, and one from Legolas. His heart glowed and he opened the one from Legolas with shaking fingers.

It was a happy letter, accounting how life in camp was, of his new companions, and his new war experiences. He enjoyed the thought of being a protector of the people and looked forward to his father’s visit to the front.  
Thranduil swallowed dryly at this. Despite his recent bettering, he wasn’t sure that his health would cope well with too many days on the road. Also, if concealing his illness in these halls with thick walls wasn’t hard enough, in a tent camp it would be impossible.  
As if triggered by the thought, he coughed softly into his fist. With a heavier mind than he expected he left the letter on his desk and turned to the one from his captain.  
Also good news. They were making progress; they had cleared the forest until the mountains and were holding the line. Next step was to send small forces into enemy country and stress their opponents.  
Thranduil placed the letter next the other. This was by far the most risky part of the plan and was bound to cost lives – maybe not at first, but the orcs would soon figure it out and begin doubling and tripling their numbers at the most crucial positions.

The door suddenly opened, making Thranduil start. He had so much hide these days and he was beginning to hate that door.   
However, it was Tauriel who snuck in and closed the door carefully. She gave him a smile and kissed him deeply before hugging him tightly. And she kept holding him tight, burying her face in his chest.  
“Are you alright?” he asked and she nodded into his chest.  
“Yes. I heard Lord Elrond has arrived,” she answered and he realized that her voice was full of hope. _Her brother_.  
“Yes, just this morning,” Thranduil added.  
“Do you think that he can help Emerion?” She asked and he was at a loss. It took too long for him to answer.  
“I hope so,” he settled for, but in his heart, he had little hope for either of them.  
She realized her grip on him and met his eyes full on. His valkyrie was back and she let him to the bedroom.

\--

Thranduil had only managed to get dressed again, when Elrond came through the door into the study, “-Thranduil?” It was down to sheer dumb luck that the bedroom was sheltered from view from the door. Tauriel nearly squeaked. She buried herself deeper under the covers.  
“ _You didn’t lock?”_ he mouthed to her. She could only shrug her shoulders. She couldn’t remember.  
He tied his waistband and went out into the study, “-Lord Elrond,” he responded in a mellow voice.  
He grabbed his cloak from his chair in the middle of the room and quickly put it on, but not before Elrond evidently saw how thin he was.   
Thranduil then swore under his breath, when he realized, he’d forgotten the extra layers he usually wore to look bulkier.

“All rested up from the journey?” he asked Elrond, putting on a casual demeanour, but he’d forgotten that Elrond was an intelligent man. Elrond looked to the door from where Thranduil had appeared and then his face changed to one of utter disbelieve.

“You have taken a lover!?” he tried to whisper, but he was too shocked to keep it low. For a second Thranduil considered if he could smell them or if it just pure intuition. He closed his eyes and cursed mentally.  
“Why don’t you follow me,” Thranduil sombrely suggested and opened the external door and led him away from the scene to allow Tauriel leave with her dignity in due time.  
Elrond looked at him with new eyes.  
“What are you doing?” Elrond asked once he got control over himself again.  
“I’m not entirely sure,” Thranduil admitted, “-but please keep your voice down. We’ve managed to keep it a secret so far. Not even Aglarabel knows and I intend to keep it that way.”  
“But you’re married, Thranduil, even though she has passed on before you, she’s waiting for you.”  
“I realize this,” Thranduil admitted, “-my ... lover,” the word felt foreign to his tongue, “-is also aware of this and knows she can only be second. I cannot make her my wife or the queen. I can never make it honourable.”  
Elrond walked on, “-you have clearly thought about it. Then I suppose the rest is down to choice, though I will not condone your actions.  
“I’m not asking you to,” Thranduil added.  
“Your body tells me that this grieves you more perhaps than you realize yourself at this point. Perhaps alongside this war you’re evidently fighting against the orcs. You look worn, Thranduil. I fear that you’ll fade if you continue this affair,” Elrond concluded. For a second Thranduil didn’t understand. Then he couldn’t believe his luck and struggled not to let it show. Instead he looked at the floor, looking shameful.  
“I have indeed lost weight,” he admitted and seemingly it was enough for Elrond to make his own assumptions. He nodded.  
“Now, tell me about this illness that targets elves,” Elrond finally let up.

Thranduil released a breath he didn’t know he was holding and began explaining what he knew. Once they arrived in the healing bay, he introduced him to Ennassiel, whom explained the rest.

Elrond took in the overwhelming amount of information with the ease of a seasoned leader. He was used to creating an overview of a complicated situation


	8. Fighting in the Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harion is training hard to win his father's praise. Nenton is worried.

Thranduil chose a less crowded path back from the healing bay that took him past the training grounds. There Harion was practising his sword technique, something Thranduil and his weapons master had encouraged him to do. Neither sword fighting nor archery was something that came easily to Harion, where it came natural to both Legolas and Glasséll. Harion, on the other hand, was a master of politics, trade, and negotiation. Glasséll possessed some talents in these matters as well, but not matching Harion’s level and Legolas had no interest.  
He stopped and watched his son for a while under a thick oak tree that grew wild between the training grounds and the city wall.  
Harion proceeded through the familiar movements and swung his sword though the air in intricate, but deliberate patterns. His body followed, keeping his point of balance low and put power behind the sword.

Thranduil noted with satisfaction that the quality of his work and his form was getting better and his movements more fluid. It was vast improvement, much more than Thranduil had ever dared to hope for.  
The current flow Harion was going through ended in a violent double handed stab forward, slicing through the air.  
“Well done,” Thranduil interrupted his son’s solitary training. Harion started and pointed his sword towards the intruder.   
“Father!” he exclaimed and lowered the sword immediately. Thranduil smiled and held up both hands.   
“I surrender,” he chuckled as he approached, “-I see that you’ve heeded the sword master’s advice.”  
“I have,” he nodded smilingly and wiped the sweat of his brow. Thranduil noted he must have been training for a good while to work up a sweat like that in this frosty air.  
“And I see the result,” Thranduil acknowledged, “- you have been working hard, my son.”  
“Thank you,” he beamed and tugged a strand of blond hair behind his ear, “-I had rather hoped that this perhaps would change your mind regarding allowing me to go along with Legolas to the mountains.”  
Thranduil felt his heart drop.   
“You thought the reason was that I didn’t trust your skills with a sword?” Thranduil asked, sadness infiltrating his voice. Harion furrowed his brows.  
“Well yes,” he admitted, like there could be no other reason. The king sighed and looked away for a second.  
“I cannot allow you to go to the front, because you are too important,” he began to explaining, carefully weighing his words, “-you are my heir. The heir to the throne of the Woodland Realm. Every single citizen in this realm will look to you, should something happen to me.” Thranduil swallowed.  
“Why should anything happen to you? We are immortal,” Harion argued.  
“Have you learned nothing of war, of the disease that roam our halls like a weapon, or of the death of your grandfather?” Thranduil countered and there was a sharp edge to his voice, “-Our immortality is tested always. Sometimes it falls short. You are the future of this realm and I cannot risk your life like that. There is too much at stake. We are at war now and I think you shall have the chance to fight soon enough.”  
Harion had cowered a bit, feeling his father’s temper was flaring up. It was not often that he got riled up, but when he did, Harion felt infinitely small.  
“It’s not like I want to fight,” Harion interjected, “-I just...” he sighed, not finding the right words.  
This deflated Thranduil instantly.  
“No, I suspect you just didn’t want Legolas to surpass you,” he gave, “-you must have the confidence to be your own person. Take responsibility at court and council and earn your place among us. This is where your strength lies.”  
“But,” Harion began, but Thranduil quickly cut him off.  
“You will never be an excellent sword fighter. You’ll be a good one, but you will be a truly glorious politician... and regent, when the time comes.”  
Harion had pursed his lips and wasn’t sure how to take his father’s words.   
“You say these things like you already know them to be true and unchangeable,” Harion sheathed his sword, “-I’m not so sure that I am, who you are describing.”  
Thranduil smiled enigmatically, “-to see yourself in a clear light is nearly impossible. I do not think that I have ever met one who could.”  
Harion nodded slightly embarrassed, “-I suppose you’re right.”  
Thranduil padded Harions a couple of times on the shoulder and made to leave.  
“Elrond has arrived,” he told him, “-I expect you to call on him as soon as you have had a bath and are fit for the world to see.”  
“Yes, father,” Harion agreed with a crooked smile and Thranduil went back to his study.

\--

 

Elrond spent several days with Ennassiel examining the patients, evaluating their situation, and considering the underlying causes.  
Thranduil attempted to stay as far away from Elrond as possible, knowing that the Rivendell lord would now be familiar with the symptoms of the disease. Even though he was feeling alright, he didn’t want to take any chances. He sent Harion as his ambassador on several occasion and was pleased both Elrond and Harion seemed positive about the arrangement.  
Aglarabel followed Elrond like a shadow, writing down all their findings and conclusions. Though the list with their unanswered questions far surpassed the first.  
Aglarabel dutifully reported to her King every night over a meal.

Thranduil was just finishing reading a letter from Commander Aelost, reporting that they’d successfully begun their guerrilla attacks, when Nenton entered his study. The hour was late and seemed out of character of the elder Nenton to breach protocol.  
“Good Evening King Thranduil,” The old man begun and bowed lightly before he sat down opposite the King. He gestured the letter Thranduil was holding, “-what news of the front?”  
“Commander Aelost has managed to push the orcs further back, but now it’s more difficult to deploy the guerrilla groups safely. Aelost has little interest in advancing our line as they are in a good position where they were at the present,” Thranduil summed it up.  
Nenton nodded acknowledging and brushed his hazel brown hair on his face afterwards.  
“Will you let them hold the line, where they are?” he asked. Thranduil considered it for a moment.  
“Yes, it seems a gamble to chase them down their hole,” he answered, “- what can I do for your tonight?” finally tiring of the old man’s chit-chat. The suddenness of the change of subject threw Nenton and he was unable to answer for a while. Thranduil put his patient face on and waited.  
“It’s just that,” the ancient Nenton began, “-I’ve found myself quite unable to sleep or find comfort in anything after hearing about this sickness and I wanted to hear, now that Elrond is here, if they’ve found anything.”  
Thranduil felt his stiffness melt a little. He’d never thought Nenton as the caring type.  
“I’m afraid not much,” Thranduil admitted, “-we need a wizard to evaluated the magical aspect of it still.”  
“And no word from Radagast,” Nenton concluded  himself.  
“No, not yet,” Thranduil sighed, “-yesterday I sent two scouts out to try and locate him.”  
“They are all too young to meet such a grim fate,” Nenton said barely above a whisper as he got up from the chair. It took half a second for Thranduil to realize he meant the infected in the healing bay.  
“Indeed,” Thranduil agreed as Nenton left him alone again.

**Author's Note:**

> New Characters:  
> Ennasiel: Head Healer (Silvan)  
> Aglarabel: chief advisor (Sindar)  
> Edendur: advisor trainee (silvan)  
> Emerion: Tauriel's brother. Member of the elven army.  
> Minohien: member of the guard.  
> Harion: Thranduil's oldest son and heir. Crown prince.  
> Glassél: Thranduil's 2nd child and only daughter.  
> Anlairia: healer under Enassiel.  
> Nenton: Council Elder  
> Aelost: Commander of the army.  
> Arangos: Vice commander of the army


End file.
